Nessun Dorma
by NefretForthEmerson
Summary: It's the night before Mr. Bates's trial and some of Downton's inhabitants cannot sleep. COMPLETE.
1. Anna

**A/N: DA has apparently given me a burst of creativity. There will be 4 other chapters coming in the future. Please read and review.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own DA. If I did, this story wouldn't even be necessary.**

Anna stared up at the ceiling. She had been staring at the same spot for what seemed like hours. She sent up another prayer for sleep to come, but as more minutes slowly ticked past, she resigned herself to another sleepless night. These sleepless nights were nothing new for her. She had had fitful nights of sleep when John had gone to London after his mother died, when he had followed Vera, when he was at the public house. But she had never been so sleepless as she was this night. How could she sleep when she knew that her John was over in York Prison, waiting for the trial that would decide his fate?

Deciding that she had had quite enough of the ceiling, Anna rolled onto her side and stared at the bed where Gwen and Ethel had slept. It was then that she turned to her other care. In the week following John's arrest, she had watched warily for the beginning of her course. She wasn't naïve. Like any good farm girl, Anna knew where babies came from. When it did come, Anna hadn't known whether to mourn the lost possibility or fervently thank god for it. She still didn't know.

When she had visited him last week, she had been glad of the loss. John's face was lined with care, each day etching a bit more into his face. She could see how much it hurt to see her in the gloom and squalor of the prison. She could not even begin to imagine how hurt he would be if he saw her belly swell, thinking that he had branded her as the wife of a murderer and consigned her to bring up a child on her own. She knew that it would have broken him.

Then there were nights like this night, where the loss weighed heavily on her. Tonight, she wished that she could place her hand on her belly and feel a child. At this bleak hour, she wished that she could have just a piece of him, a wee babe with his eyes, his smile. She felt she might be able to face tomorrow more bravely if the possibility remained.

Anna shivered and hugged herself. Even after all of these months, she could still recall John's touch on her hair, her cheek, her hip. She longed for her bed to hold her husband.

Outside, a lark started singing its morning song. 'Dawn has finally come,' she thought, 'what does it hold?'


	2. Mary

**A/N: I am not sure if I captured Mary's voice, but I hope that I did. Please R&R.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own DA. If I did, we'd never have known Miss Swire and Sir Richard.**

Mary Crawley had had just enough of her room. She had been pacing around her bed, to her armoire, to her windows. Her head was such a jumble of things that she couldn't think straight anymore. She needed to leave the room, to find some neutral space. She shrugged on her dressing gown and made her way to the library. The fire was still lit, casting a homey look to the rather excessively grand room. Mary closed the door behind her and waited to hear if anyone else was out for a nighttime stroll. Hearing nothing but her own breath, she sat down at her mother's desk.

Mary had intended to read, but decided that her mind was too busy to invite in the words and ideas of someone else. Over the Christmas holiday, Matthew had still proven to be distant. She didn't particularly blame him for the distance. Lavinia Swire had been a sweet, kind girl. Her death had been a truly horrible thing and she hadn't deserved that fate. Mary thought that they had even been friends after a fashion in the end. It was a difficult event to move past. Still shouldn't something positive have come from her death? The war had taught Mary many, many lessons, but the most precious might be how fleeting time truly was. Over the past few days, Mary had come to realize that she didn't want to spend any more time away from him.

Standing in the way of this was Richard Carlisle. She had spent the holidays wondering what she had originally seen in him. She hadn't minded that he was a self-made man whose social standing wasn't quite the equal of a Crawley and she admired his desire to work towards a better social place. In the beginning, they had seemed suited to one another, but it was a sedate connection, never exciting passion. The intervening years had done the couple no kindnesses. She had grown more reserved and more judgmental. His desire towards higher social standing had curdled, leaving a man who thought nothing of working servants to an early grave. Over the past few months, she had wondered if she had sold herself too cheaply.

Mary quickly banished the thought. She bitterly regretted that her price had not saved Anna from pain. She had watched Anna closely in the months after the arrest of Bates, watching her grow more pale, more drawn, and becoming a shadow of her former self. Observing this change, Mary felt more heartsick and guiltier than she had ever thought possible. Anna was paying for her sins. It had been her idea for Richard to buy Vera's story. Bates had originally left Downton Abbey, crushing Anna in the process, to keep the story from the papers. The only reason for the story to exist was because she had been a stupid, silly girl. She had played the 'if only' game so many times that 'It's my fault,' had become her mantra. She wasn't sure what the future was going to bring, but she now knew that she wanted to at least tell Anna about how heartsick she was about the whole affair.

She took out a piece of paper and inked her mother's fountain pen. 'Dear Anna…"

As she finished the letter, she heard a lark singing its morning song. 'Dawn has finally come,' she thought, 'what does it hold?'


	3. Lord Grantham

**A/N: All new things (the parts about the Boer War, extra Crawley children, and Vera) have been totally made up by me. It might be a bit before the next chapter gets posted. Thanks for the kind reviews so far!**

**Disclaimer: It's pretty obvious that DA is not mine.**

Robert Crawley had seen enough death to last him several lifetimes. In Africa, he had seen men standing next to him shot and killed. He had dealt with the death of two infant sons and even more losses of possible children. He had faced the men returning from the Somme, Rheims, and Amiens. Even after the war ended, death had dealt still more blows, the near death of Cora and the death of Miss Swire. Looking at the ceiling, Robert thought that all he wanted was a peaceful existence.

He had chosen to sleep in his drawing room, knowing that he would have difficult sleeping this particular night. He knew that Cora wouldn't appreciate his stirring and he didn't want to have anymore difficult conversations with her about the next day's events. He tried to put his mind to other thoughts, to Mary, to Sybil, to anything that might give him a bit of rest, but his mind was haunted. Robert firmly believed that his last breaths would be haunted by the image of Anna haltingly explaining that Bates had been arrested.

But, he was most haunted by the figure of John Bates as he had been when they had entered the Boer War. Despite their difference in social standing, the men had formed something resembling a friendship, thanks to their similarity in ages. Bates had always been a mercurial sort of person. One moment, he would be repeating some dirty limerick that he had heard from some other soldier. The next moment, he could be lost to the world, full of rage, or just distant. The war had been hard on both men. Both had left much-loved wives back at home. Robert remembered Bates telling him stories about his son, named John, and Robert eagerly shared stories about his three daughters. One day in 1901, Robert knew how Bates felt when he received the letter telling him that John had died of smallpox. After that point, the joking man disappeared and Bates was shot in early 1902. At the end of the war, both men returned to England feeling that they were lesser men.

Robert had visited Bates in 1904. He had tried, in vain, to forget the visit. He had found a home full of squalor, resentment, and drunkenness. It seemed that Vera had never forgiven her husband for not coming home when their son had died. Bates blamed her for the death.

As the light of dawn streamed into the room. As he heard the sound of larks singing outside, Robert tried to think of some future, any future for Bates. He tried to see Bates and Anna in one of Downton's cottages, a nursery full of children, grown old and sitting by the fire. As much as he tried to will such a future into his mind, he could not and his failure terrified him.


	4. Mrs Hughes

**A/N: Thanks for all of the reviews. I really appreciate them.**

**Disclaimer: Yup, I still don't own Downton Abbey.**

Mrs. Hughes knew that you weren't supposed to have a favorite, but she couldn't help but view Anna as the closest thing she would ever have to a daughter. It had been more years than she cared to count, since Anna had first arrived at Downton. At 15, Anna had been a bit of a wild thing. She would come back from her half days with bits of twigs and grass in hair, hat at an askew angle, and a half-dead bouquet of wildflowers in her hands. Mr. Carson had worried that Anna was off romping with some young farm hand and bringing dishonor on Downton. Mrs. Hughes had investigated and discovered that Anna's father had had a fondness for the Romantics and taught his daughter to worship nature. Anna had eventually stopped taking her walks when O'Brien had snippily cast doubts on her virtue.

A few years later, Anna had started attracting the attentions of the young men in Downton with her pretty looks and cheerful disposition. Mrs. Hughes had hoped for good things to come to this young maid, but unfortunately all that had come was heartbreak. Anna had developed an attachment with a young farmer named Henry. Mrs. Hughes had known his family and started to hope for Anna's future. She could still remember Anna telling her that she was very nearly engaged to Henry. A few weeks later, Henry announced his engagement to a young woman in York. Mrs. Hughes could still recall Anna's bitter tears. Then, Anna threw herself into her work and ,in Mrs. Hughes's opinion, lost more than a little bit of cheery nature. The dedication to work lead to several promotions for Anna and Mrs. Hughes began to think that Anna might succeed her as Downton's housekeeper. And then he arrived.

Mrs. Hughes had not been sure of John Bates when he arrived at Downton. While she was sympathetic to how he had received his injuries, she was not sure if he could adequately perform the duties of valet. Even more worrisome was how his arrival had affected Anna. While she was happy to see Anna laughing more easily, smiling, Mrs. Hughes worried about his suitability for Anna. He was too old, too quiet, too solid, and Anna would always have to be a nursemaid. Mrs. Hughes had hoped for a more incandescent match for "her" Anna. But as the months and years passed, she came to respect Mr. Bates as a valet and appreciate him as suitor for Anna. Her heart had broken when he was arrested and then absolutely stricken when she discovered the secret marriage between the two of them.

And now she had to serve as witness for the prosecution. As she heard the larks singing their morning song, all she could think of was how she might have to break Anna's heart, her daughter's.


	5. Miss O'Brien

**A/N: So, this is the last chapter of this story. Sorry, no Mr. Bates chapter. Please R&R!**

**Disclaimer: Last time I checked, I was not Julian Fellowes.**

Sarah O'Brien could remember the first time that she was truly, properly terrified. It was during Sunday Service when she was six years old. There was a visiting preacher and it was considered a big thing for him to preach at their small church. He had turned out to be a bit of a firebrand and spent the entirety of his sermon talking about sin and hellfire. He seemed to look straight at her when he spoke about children who were burned because of their sins. She hadn't been able to sleep that night and for the week after. Finally, her father sat her down and explained that she wasn't going to burn as long as she was always repentant.

After her father's reassurances, she had gone blithely along her life, no longer filled with fear, and oh how her sins had numbered in the thousands. At eight, she repeatedly stole the sweets meant for her baby brother. At ten, she spread stories about the new girl in school who had all the boys smitten with her fair hair. At eleven, she let the Hart boy kiss her and then she threw a rock at his head when he had spread stories about her kiss. The years went by and the sins grew in scope, but the repentance stopped.

While she had been a wild, sinful thing outside of Downton, it was there that she sinned continually and with more malice. She coveted the Grantham family's wealth. She gossiped about anyone and everyone to anyone and everyone. She "borrowed" bits of lace and ribbon from the Lady Grantham. She envied Mrs. Hughes for being the housekeeper. She envied Gwen for escaping the drudgery of service. She had even envied Anna for her happiness, even if it was with a cripple.

'But,' she reflected as she started into the night, 'what have I ever done to be rewarded with happiness.' She did her job, now an atonement, and slept. Everyone but Thomas avoided her and she had only ever stuck to Thomas because he reminded her of her dead baby brother.

She thought about the next day and wondered yet again why she had written to Vera. 'You thought you were striking at the cripple,' she thought, 'but you struck at your lady. You hurt Anna more than you needed to.' As dawn's light crept into her window and the larks blithely sang their song, she sent up a fervent prayer, 'Dear Lord, I know what this day brings. It brings naught but death and pain. Please forgive me my many sins.'

**A/N II: I have a couple more stories brewing in my brain. Thanks for reading!**


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